Zeno's Paradox
by sillyolddoctor
Summary: Hodgins ruminates on lines, paradoxes, missed opportunities and the two best people he knows giving each other a chance. Pre-Change in the Game.
1. Out of the Cave

**A/N: Hey there! So I've had this story sitting on my desktop for a long, long time and I was convinced to publish it by the lovely belowthetamarack. It's set anytime between seasons 2 and 5 and was born of my wandering mind during a particularly boring pre-cal class. So at least I know something came out of that subject...**

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><p><em>Zeno's Paradox<em>

I have known Dr. Temperance Brennan for a long time. In fact, she is probably the oldest friend that I am still in contact with.

Not that we were friends at first. Far from it.

I was irritable. Angry at life, the world, and all who inhabited it. Wrapped up in my elaborate conspiracy theories and strange, exotic bugs, forever snapping the rubber band around my wrist. She was cold, hard, and hyper-rational. Wrapped up in her world of the dead and forgotten, forever staring at the bones of the long-gone. So it was understandable that we disliked each other, at least at first.

But things change. People change.

And I had never seen someone change more than she did when _he_ entered her life. I think entered is too gentle a word. When he pushed, shoved and bullied his way into her life. He was perhaps the first one to attempt to break through those walls she had carefully constructed, the walls of cold, hard logic and rationality and _where is the proof? _and _I don't know what that means_, which shut everyone else out, even her best friend. Even Angela. She resisted, of course, pulled back, away from him, for a whole year.

But he would not take no for an answer.

Even the most casual observer (myself included) could not deny the attraction between those two, the way the very air seemed to crackle with electricity when they occupied the same space, the way pure chemistry seemed to get them through a murder case. I still find it difficult to believe they have not yet given into their most basic instincts and just, well...ripped each other's clothes off.

Booth showed her the real world for the first time.

Not that she had been avoiding reality before, it was just that it had passed her by. Her reality was the bowels of Limbo, among ancient skeletons and their untold stories. She had never considered a life with the still-living. And initially, she preferred it that way.

But he didn't care. He dragged her, kicking and screaming, into the sun, the light, out of the cave. He was the philosopher-king and she the shadow, fettered and chained, observing and cataloging and closely observing the shadows that danced on the walls before her. Plato himself would have nodded in approval of the modern reenactment of his famous work.

After those first few cases, I saw them temper their obvious sexual attraction, saw the way they could solve murders like nobody's business, the way they worked perfectly as a team. The way they complemented each other.

I caught glimpses into their lives; an intimate hug in her office here, a shared smile there. I also caught things that they both seemed unaware of; the way he smiled at her when he thought nobody else was watching, the way she seemed to brighten up, relax, when he entered a room.

Theirs was the strangest relationship I had ever observed. And yet, it was also the most perfect.

I myself had had limited one-on-one time with Dr. B up to that point. At most, we would discuss a case over lunch, but by then her lunches were dominated by Booth's presence. In fact, her entire life seemed to be dominated by Booth. At times, she appeared to ooze his essence, spouting what, to most, seemed to be the most inconsequential things he had said as though they were the words of God himself. I'm sure he worshipped at her feet just as much as she did at his, perhaps more so. He was just better at hiding it. I'm not completely sure though, as I tried to steer clear of him. The G-Man, with his tough guy talk and his sniper training and quick temper, scared me a little then.

To be completely honest, he still does.

But my lack of bonding time with my boss changed on one fateful day. You get to know someone pretty well, when you think you're going to be sharing a grave with them.

I remember everything from that day, in the car. My subconscious has helpfully stored every minute detail, so as to be recalled easily on nights when I wake up in a cold sweat, unable to breathe and afraid of the dark.

At that moment, I can recall every sensation that I experienced in those cramped quarters, so close to death and yet so far.

I remember how it feels to wake up and not know where you are, only to discover you're in a nightmare.

I remember how it is to feel insatiable anger and unbearable rage at the injustice of the world.

I remember how it is to hate a person so fiercely that murder no longer feels like an irrational action.

I remember the pain of being struck by a car.

I remember how it feels to have all your hopes pinned on one text message, on one group of people. How it is to feel so disparaged and yet so hopeful at the same time.

I remember how desperate the need is to confide in someone, anyone, your most closely guarded secrets before the end.

I remember how it feels to watch a friend, a colleague, write, with a sense of uncharacteristic frenzy, what may very well be their last words. I remember the force that goes into those words, which must say so much in so little. I remember how I could tell how desperate the letter was, just from watching the rushed strokes of the pen against the paper.

I knew exactly who that letter was to.

There is only one person who incites such passion in her.

It could only be Booth.


	2. Paradox

**A/N: I realize I forgot to put the disclaimer last time, but I'm pretty sure you're aware that I don't own Bones.**

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><p>But we did not die in that hole in the ground. I was pulled out by Angie, and her by Booth, and we reveled in the sensation of being alive. All of us. Alive. Together. And that's how it's been since. We're a team, we squints and Booth. An unlikely pairing, but we work well together. We solve murders. And, hey, that's great.<p>

The lab has always bred romance, and I kind of find that soothing. That out of death blooms love. That the world is a never-ending circle. I like that. You see, for all my paranoid conspiracy theories, I really am an optimist, a romantic, even, at heart.

Me and Angie.

Booth and Cam.

And that third, unmentionable, inexplicable relationship. The one without definition, the one that goes beyond "just partners" but doesn't quite reach "I love you."  
>Booth and Brennan.<p>

It's as if they are gradually moving towards each other, but each step is only a half of the last one until their movement is so infintesimal that it is unmeasurable. They are moving, and yet they aren't, because their steps are so small. They will never reach their destination, for they first must reach the halfway point. Movement without motion. It's a paradox.

Zeno's Paradox.

But of course, this is silly, and solely a matter of concern for philosophers. Because obviously motion is real; you or I can walk across a room in a matter of seconds, can get from place to place easily. Our strides, our movements, are real and _true_, not some theory pondered in stuffy university classrooms by eager students.

So it stands to reason that Booth and Dr. B can do the same. They are not inhibited by philosophical paradoxes; they can walk and move freely as they wish. They can arrive at their destination, can step over the line they have created for the purpose of professionalism as easily as you or I can walk across a room.  
>Someone just has to take the first step.<p>

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><p><strong>Reviews are always appreciated! <strong>


	3. Eventually

**So here's the final chapter, and it's a very short one again. I hope you had as much fun reading this story as I had writing it!**

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><p>I have observed them often over the years, as I, too, spend a ridiculous amount of time at the Jeffersonian, cataloging my beloved bugs and slime, identifying particulates from before the Industrial Revolution, before the Fall of Rome, before the first hunting and gathering tribes formed the first cities.<p>

They are there too.

Many times I have walked into Dr. B's office, to show her something of interest I found, and I have discovered him there, as well, no matter the lateness (or earliness) of the hour. Sometimes, I will venture in, feeling like the third wheel, to show her what I came for. But more often than not, I just observe. Watch. I have gotten quite good at it, over the years.

I have seen him lean so far over her desk, so far into her personal space, that I was absolutely positive one of them would bridge the distance with a kiss.  
>I have seen them laughing uproariously over paperwork and Pad Thai, so uninhibited, so free of the limits "just partners" places on them. I have seen tender hugs and gentle caresses. I have seen comfort and anger, laughter and tears. I have seen it all.<p>

And yet, I have not.

I am waiting for one of them to have the courage to bridge that distance, to ignore common sense and rationale and whatever else is keeping them apart. I am waiting for the first step.

I know it will happen. As I said, I am, in reality, an incorrigible optimist. And despite my wife's meddling and the kid shrink's theories and Caroline Julian's comments and the way everyone else seems to be so much more invested in their relationship than I am, and even though the date I entered in the "When will Booth and Brennan finally get together?" office pool has long since passed, it will be I who is the happiest when _it_ happens. When paradoxes and lines and questions and insecurities are shrugged off and forgotten, and when two of the best people I know find their _eventually_. Together.

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><p><strong>Thanks for sticking with me! Reviews are much appreciated! <strong>


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